


against all odds came the curse of the gods

by DidiNyx



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Childhood, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Reunions, Fatherhood, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introspection, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War, i just want them to be friends sdjkbsakjda, ideas about toxic masculinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-25 09:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17722463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DidiNyx/pseuds/DidiNyx
Summary: What is the use of mortals when they're easily cursed and burdened? The boys, the men... The boys that would be men, the men that were once boys... All have such a rotten heart, all have poisoned the earth beneath their feet. What is the point?"So here's to all the boys whose father has become their ghost."





	against all odds came the curse of the gods

**Author's Note:**

> "Rescue? Not quite. The boys may be getting off the island, but they're just going to grow up into soldiers destroying another Eden—only this time, the Eden is the whole world; and the 'fire' is an atomic bomb."  
> ~Shmoop.com analysis on the ending of "Lord of the Flies"
> 
> "Man, beast- Aren’t they the same?  
> Weren’t we all carved by the same bark and stone?  
> If creatures ever are equal, why not we?  
> The world keeps all for we’re one with the sky  
> Man, beast- Aren’t we the same?  
> Weren’t we both witnesses of Lucifer’s fall?  
> If creatures ever be home, why not we?  
> The world keeps all for we’re one with the sea  
> Man, beast- Both hunted and damned  
> both the reason why all be dark, even the precious lamb  
> If creatures ever are united, why can’t we?  
> 'We are crazy and they equal monstrosity'  
> Man, beast: We can’t undo the beast of man  
> Beast, man: Perhaps morals live in thee  
> And so I hereby quote the beast!"  
> -"The world keeps morals, nay the beast!”

As the rescue rapidly took place, the group of young boys were split according to age, with exception of Ralph, Jack, and Roger. The latter was still aggressive and quite restless, and upon seeing the savagery be replaced with horror on the boys' faces, it was evident he had a certain affect on everyone's moods. In fact, it puzzled the navy men greatly. How could such small boys act like such men? What did they encounter, how were they harmed? Surely no Britain-raised gentlmen could witness corruption prior to the real unravelment of war?

Yet, the children needed aid, and rest...and as soon as possible.

Ralph's heart didn't cease to beat any slower since running from that horrid fire. He blinked multiple times, repeating _I'm safe, I'm safe, look, the fire is out... There's no more fire, no more danger._ But Ralph wasn't sure. There was something eerie about the blackness of the land, the dull smoke and the emotionless adults aboard. Something within him-- deeply connected to the island's wild roots-- felt the water pressure of the hoses beat down on his soul as it wiped out any signs of chaotic light. Some of his beastly form, posing as human flesh, desparately wanted the fire to remain, showing they'd still be rescued, still be found admist the broken terrain...

No, the human flesh was the beast all long. Ralph woke up, and understood solemnly. Clenching his jaw, he looked down at his dirty, cut hands. Those were the marks of a savage, just as the paint Jack had on his face represented his bloodlust. 

Jack... Ralph gulped. A friend, an enemy, a bittersweet story of a stupid boy with ginger hair who could sing C#. And it had all went wrong, so terribly wrong on a damned island! 

The fire saved them, but alas... look at the ruins. Look at Jack's face, smeared with dirt, paint and blood. A ruin of a boy, like _all_ the boys present. Oh, God above! Why did you create humans, so inherently selfish and fleeting? What is the use of mortals when they're easily cursed and burdened? How could you, Lord, mirror us when you're perfection and we're merely pawns? Ralph swiped at his cheeks, now covered with tears. Maybe there was no god. But either way, they were all cursed. The boys, the men... The boys that would be men, the men that were once boys. All have such a rotten heart, all who have poisoned the earth beneath their feet. What is the point?

Ralph's introspection was interrupted by the orders of the original navy man who welcomed them aboard their ship. Quickly, the whole group was scattered and the boys were treated with baths, hair cuts, food, and of course, the most desired: sleep. A break from the hellish reality, the dystopia that will forever haunt Ralph in his dreams as he continues to run away from the screaming, the smell of rotten flesh... He shivered. The pig, Simon, the forest, the monster, lord of the flies... Piggy...

There was that same wild blackness, again.

*

Ralph woke up in the hospital, not knowing exactly what had happened. This only terrified him more. He bolted straight up, wanting to scream, but his throat was all closed up. The lights and white walls were too sharp, and Ralph wanted to cower under the pale blue blankets. He never understood why hospitals that were supposed to heal and comfort you felt like you were a captive, made believe you were sicker than you actually were. In Ralph's case, it made him feel like an animal who was suddenly caged. The ironic thing is that they wouldn't believe a kid like him actually _was_ sick-- mentally, emotionally. Unless... unless they find out, and think he's a monster who should be caged. He wouldn't see his family, or get a chance to explain himself. He'd be locked away, in a "crazy house" as the boys used to tease about in school, and... and...

This time, Ralph screamed, and immediately the doctor came in, with someone else. That someone looked familiar, and too excited to see Ralph. He was a man, with the same sandy hair Ralph had... Ralph stopped screaming and began to sob. His father was right there, holding him, saying everything was going to be okay.

Ralph caught pieces of the story: His father had heard the dispath of the other navy man, heard that there was a kid just rescued that kept saying random things. When questioned, it took a long time to reply, but Ralph had said his father was in the navy. And wouldn't you had known? He started to recite his address, the names of his parents, his school... just like that Percival kid. That made Ralph so depressed. Reciting didn't save Percival, but it saved him. Did he even deserve it?

Anyway, they recognized the father's name Ralph had said. The dad confirmed that it was his kid they had rescued, so he came, and took Ralph to the hospital because he was entranced with fear and guilt, sobbing and crying. Ralph didn't remember any of it, but he could feel his dad's strong arms and smell his signature beach aroma. 

For the first time that month, Ralph felt sane and loved. He felt warmth no fire could give him, and it actually was okay. Maybe this whole time, his father was exactly what he was missing.

* * *

Life tried to go back to normal. It was the hardest thing Ralph had to go through-- besides the actual island, of course, but he tried to push that far aside as possible. It was hard, hearing his father berate himself about not looking out for his kid, and his mother crying every night, wondering if Ralph would ever disappear again, except next time he wouldn't return... It was hard hearing the principal break it to them that Ralph couldn't go to school until he completed at least three months of therapy and behavioral correction, and it was hard seeing father drink again and mom hug Ralph every time she saw him, like her baby boy wasn't physically there, ever.

It was hard for Ralph to even write about his feelings. He felt like he didn't deserve to show them anymore, or else he'd just more people, and everyone else around was still hurting, even the country. Everyone fears bombs and rages from foreigners, but nobody tends to mention the corruption within. Nobody mentions that the boys are mentally ill and are paranoid, and when they grow up they're going to be just the same, except they will remember the war.

It was always war, right? War on TV, war globally and locally, war that was just humanity against humanity. Even in school, the younger boys joked about war, joked about having guns and fighting men and how cool the bombs would be. But no, no, it was disgusting, Ralph swore. None of that was cool. It was all terrible, and vile, and scary beyond imagination, and yet you have boys-- who have never picked up a gun-- do so when their parents aren't looking, and then they have an accident, and they hurt people, and they become corrupt, and there's this series of violence and hate... and... _No, don't think about. Don't care, or else it'll consume you. Don't think, don't feel. Fire... No, it's over._

It's over.

And yet, the war is never over. And the memories are never over. 

Ralph threw the pencil across the room. Secretly, he wished it could come back like a bomerang and knock some ignorance back into his tiny skull. He'd do anything to be a stupid, ignorant boy. He was sick of thinking so much. Father used to tell him about war, sometimes, or at least his work as a man in the navy. His father made it sound like it was some special duty. He didn't necessarily glorized it, but it excited Ralph nevertheless and the young boy pictured himself following in those footsteps. Not anymore. If Ralph heard anything related to the navy or war or fighting, he felt like vomitting his stomach out. His father had realized the flinching, the sickness. He gives him long, sad looks instead of fun stories. And maybe he sees a little of himself in his son, too, but Ralph didn't want to think about that. It was only all depressing, really.

*

The therapy and behavioral corrections felt like it took forever, but Ralph knew it was going to take longer for Jack. He shivered everytime he thought of Jack, or just the name. That was someone Jack admired, loathed, envied and feared all at once. And he had it worse, so much worse than Ralph. He was probably labelled a murderer, an insane kid with destructive tendencies, or something of that nature. It wasn't far off, but there was still a human within Jack's odd, baffling mind. There was proof of that when Jack cried as soon as he saw Ralph cry when they all got rescued. Jack sobbed the hardest, actually. Ralph pretended not to notice.

"Honey, I made you pancakes." Ralph's mom put on her best smile, though it was tight.

Ralph's smile didn't come out right, either. "Thank you. I'm comin'." 

At the table, she tried to sound casual. "How do you feel today, honey? Any progress?"

"I feel tired still," Ralph admittedly, rather quiet. He was always quiet these days. "But rather than that, I'm okay. I'm glad I have pancakes. And my TV. And a bed, and you."

His mom nodded.

"As for progress, I'm not scared so much..." 

Mother smiled.

"Just... angry. And sometimes I don't feel anything."

She frowned this time, but tried to look alright. "That's okay, honey. Those feelings are natural. I'd be worried if you weren't concerned." She ran her fingers through his hair indulgently. "Oh, sweetie, I love you. God bless you."

Of course, she had hid all the knives and other sharp objects from Ralph. But that was okay. Ralph knew it was for the best.

Basically, the therapy required all these different tasks, a daily schedule that consisted of stuff that would be supposedly beneficial. These included daily prayers, hugs from mom and dad, time to express one's feelings through art or writing, down time such as napping and watching cartoons, sweets at the end of the day to encourage good behavior, etc. Ralph didn't find joy in anything, but it calmed his parents, so he went with it. He didn't complain. The only thing he lacked was communication. But honestly, he didn't know what to say besides "Please," "thank you," and greetings. What could you say to your parents? You won't dare explain to them anything, and it wouldn't be right to ask to go to the park or something, right?

At least, that's was Ralph figured. One day, when father came home, he actually asked if that's what Ralph wanted. The boy hesitated, but said yes. So the parents and their son went to the park, like everything was normal. It didn't _feel_ normal, but it was enough, and finally Ralph said: "I feel infinite--in the most human, stupidly boyish way possible. Aren't you proud? Please, aren't you proud?"

Mom and dad nodded, trying not to get too emotional. They were, indeed, proud.

* * *

Eventually, Ralph could go back to school. Mom and dad were so happy, and Ralph finally felt kind of happy, too. School would make things feel normal. The only tough patch would be seeing all those other young faces again... but that's okay. They were going to have a meeting about that, all together, parents and children. They were going to try to fix everything. Ralph gulped down his orange juice and gave his mom a big hug and kiss. "Look in your lunch box real fast, there's a note for you," she said with a smile. Sure enough, there was: "Have a great first day back to school! You got this, pal. -Dad."

Ralph grinned so broadly and thought he'd actually tear up. Mom drove him to school, and the meeting was going to be held that morning to get it all out of the way. Ralph wondered how much the teachers actually knew, and if that would affect how the adults talked to the kids. Maybe they still couldn't believe it.

The others kids fidgeted, and so did Ralph at the meeting. There was this normal atmosphere, and everyone was anticipating something. But the adults tried to smile, and they all shook hands, and introduced their children. It was actually lovely, the way they stuck by their kids. Only no Jack and Roger. No, Jack still had a while to go, and Roger was sent to a whole other school.

Suddenly Ralph locked eyes with Maurice. And then the twins, Sam and Eric... then the littluns, and the older kids... And it seemed like they all were thinking the same thing, because they all bursted out in tears and hugged each other, this big group hug of boys crying into each other's chests. It was so lovely, Ralph recalled, it was so human-- so angelic. Then, they started laughing really hard, and the parents all watched in curiosity and awe. Maurice joked about them all looking just as ugly and barbaric as they did before, and the laughing increased hysterically.

Ralph turned behind him. "Oh, that was great, Piggy, did you hear..." But of course, no one was behind him. Piggy wasn't there, or Simon.

It became quiet again, and this time they all held hands solemnly. The parents found it hard to separate them.

*

The boys became, more or less, close in class. They joked, talked to each other, willingly worked in partners or groups. There was still those moments of silence, in which everyone just had to take a moment to soak in that they were alive, and that this was real, despite the nightmares and moments of anxiety. One thing they learned the hard way at school was that you don't take a chance in the cafeteria if it's the morning-- you might smell bacon, and that means you think of the rotten flesh and the killing...

A few littluns learned that, and so did Ralph. They warned the others, and the mistake was never made again. Maurice even mentioned that he stopped eating meat all together, and the group nodded. Ralph had noticed the change in diet too. It was harder for some others to convince their parents to stop buying and cooking meat, but it happened eventually. Something about trigger senses, or whatever. Ralph didn't care about the explanation, though. As long as he never saw or smelled bacon again-- or had to look at pigs-- he was okay. Leave the rest for the therapists, counselors, and psychologists. They could handle that.

Calmness slowly washed over them. They were still supervised highly and had a weekly questioning from school counselors, but they were stable. That was a miracle, right? The change was incredible, actually. They were all so polite, quiet and still the majority of the time. The principal was shook by this, and so were educational advisers that visited. If news hadn't gotten around, you'd think they were just born angels or something. But no.

Even if the mood of the boys were down, Maurice still joked and had this warm aura. Not all heroes are in the army, or a navy, Ralph thought firmly. Sometimes a hero was just a silly boy with crooked teeth who laughed louder and more cheerfully than anyone you'll ever meet, _ever_. His spirit healed fast, perhaps fater than the other's. His heart was so good, so light. 

So there's hope after all.

* * *

There was a shock when it was revealed Jack would return. Of course, they were told it would happen early on, and they were prepped too on how to possibly deal with him if he still acted... off. Ralph, for obvious reasons, was the most alarmed, and had to excuse himself to throw up in the bathroom. There was fear, and... and something else. Ralph didn't know, but it was this urge that he had to see Jack again. To... to convince himself, perhaps. To convince himself... that's he's real. And that he's okay. That he's still a boy with a nice voice, one who brags about singing C# and dresses ridiculously, and is loud and funny, and very, very proud. That he isn't some ghost, some lost soul, some murderer who wants to see Ralph dead.

Ralph kept throwing up. His whole body shook. He couldn't go back to class like this. So, in impulse, he ran to the front office and skidded to a hault when the boy from his nightmares stood _right there_. Ralph figured it was one of those situations in which the principal calls up the parent and child to discuss the progress, and of course to clarify when exactly Jack was returning. A phone call would've done the same, but I guess it was less threatening to see the notorious kid in front of your very eyes to you can judge yourself.

And in front of Ralph's very eyes wasn't much. Jack's ginger hair was combed, but similar to how Ralph met him on the island, it was always slightly messy regardless. He was quite pale, very still, and had such sad, patient eyes. He wore a dark blue sweatshirt and khaki shorts. He seemed to be looking up at his father longingly as the conversation went on in this formal, cold way. Jack didn't fidget, but he could tell that he was nervous. Jack Merridew never slouched in such a way, never remained so lifeless. But that's exactly how he was now.

Ralph wanted to vomit again. He yelped a little, and Jack turned around. Thankfully, Ralph was able to hide in the hallway. Suddenly a memory came back to Ralph, one that had happened on the island. Piggy had been saying that Jack hated Ralph, and when he explained that it was because he was jealous of not being chief, Ralph had stuttered out: "But he's-- he's Jack Merridew!" The same reaction applied to Ralph now.

This was a rather strange boy, who looked enough like Jack to be him but it wasn't at all the boy Ralph had met on that island. This was a shell of a boy, a reminder of how much bloodlust one can have when tempted beyond measure. 

Suddenly, Jack and his father left the office, and Ralph held his breath as he hid. Father was saying something very low to Jack, not really looking angry but definitely not pleased. Jack was muttering something-- something that sounded childish and pleading-- and this time Ralph heard the father yell. Jack appeared to be almost tearing up, but before he could say much more, the father hit him across the face. Ralph gasped as Jack whimpered, dropping something on the ground. It wasn't a hard slap, but it was scary to watch anyway. Ralph was never hit, never. But Jack didn't look all that surprised.

The father grabbed Jack by the sleeve as calmly as he could, and they left the building. Right out the exit, and that's it, they were gone. Ralph looked at what Jack had dropped and almost sobbed again. They were glasses. Like Piggy's, Ralph thought, but they weren't cracked. So it wasn't Piggy's. Was it Jack's? 

Ralph took the glasses before anyone could see him and raced back to the classroom, racing like Jack was still behind him and Piggy was calling for help.

*

Ralph constantly thought of Jack, and on the day it was said he'd return, it was even worse. Ralph was so jittery that his mom frowned and held him. "Look," she said, real stern. "He's not going to hurt you. He needs help, just like the rest of the boys. i'm sure he is a reasonable young man now, more or less." She pecked his cheek. "I wouldn't stand if the opposite were true." Mother was never really threatening, but her tone then was the closest to that than it had ever been. "Have a good day, honey," she added sweetly, and Ralph nodded with a gulp. He'd get through this, somehow.

The whole class seemed to be discussing Jack in whispers. Maurice grinned here and there, mentioning something about how excited he'd be getting back in choir or something. Ralph was too distracted to really listen. Maurice and the others noticed this. "Are you alright?" they said, frowning. This was their original chief, after all.

"I just..." Ralph's breathing tried to even out. "I'm not sure." Generally, that was the truth. The whole insanity of the situation-- its background, it's impact-- it was all insane. Jack was insane, too. Was he really better? Was he broken, was he only a child? A lost, stupid child? Or a beast? Weren't they all...?

"Hey, it'll be okay." For a moment Ralph had thought Piggy had said that, and he shivered. At least-- oh, forbid!-- at least it wasn't Roger.

The teacher made his way to the class, and the boys fell silent as it was confirmed that their long lost second chief would be here any minute. On cue, there was a knock at the door. All the boys seemed to be huddled together, muttering to themselves and trying to take a peek. The teacher spoke to some other adult who was discussing plans regarding Jack's adjustment back, but there was no word or sign from Jack himself. That is, until the teacher held the door open and the ginger asked "Where will I be seated, sir?"

Jack's desk was on the far left, closest to the teacher's area. He was in the very front, too. Made sense; it was a good call for a kid who had lead a cult, among other things. Jack simply nodded and only briefly glanced at the boys staring at him, their breath being held. Ralph was the only one who couldn't look up, but as soon as the ginger's back was to him he looked. Jack sat his desk, his arms folded, and simply awaited instruction, or perhaps some indication that he was accepted. Or something like that, Jack's mind was completely enigmatic to Ralph now. Not that Ralph ever knew Jack or anything, because he never truly did. I mean, only someone who really knew Jack would understand his arrogance, his destructive tendencies even before the killing, the glasses, the way his dad hit him... Ralph was suddenly saddened to think maybe no one understood or cared for Jack Merridew. That was a tragedy, and so was it all in that moment. One big damned tragedy.

Even Maurice didn't dare interrupt the weird silence. The teacher finally spoke: "We welcome back former classmate Jack Merridew. Please, treat him with respect and kindess and we shall carry on with our learning. Jack, you are welcome to raise any concerns you have to me-- and that goes for all of you. Okay, so..." And he carried on with the lesson. Perhaps Jack already received enough attention and "respect and kindess" for one lifetime from the boys, but nevertheless everyone tried to not stare or alienate Jack even though they also didn't directly come to him for anything. It must've felt like a strange limbo to Jack, surrounded by boys you only half remember but could never allow yourself to forget, unless...

Ralph's heart lurched as he remembered the glasses, and all those unspoken things between them. He could almost feel Jack's gaze, and it didn't hurt but it felt wrong, like Ralph wasn't supposed to be there. Like maybe Jack wasn't supposed to be there, or any of those boys, like if you took them away all that was left was that burning image and memory of that damned pig's head on a stick, smiling, taunting the whole world to change the inner savagery of men. Maybe it would never be accomplished. But... this is Jack Merridew. _Maybe I should ask Jack Merridew._

Apparently Ralph was mumbling something. "What?" the teacher asked, pausing from some lesson.

"Oh, uh-- May I use the restroom?" The teacher simply nodded, and Ralph tried to look as calm as possible leaving the room.

*

Ralph and Jack continued to play that silent game of avoiding each other at all costs, a game in which they danced around confrontation. Perhaps that sesne of shy curiosity never changed. In fact, Ralph could remember their first few interactions vividly, like their discussions about the next plan of actions, or the way Ralph had admired Jack even though he couldn't think of a redeeming quality besides _charisma,_  which only really brought manipulation. But was it too crazy to assume Jack was a really, _really_ good person underneath all of that show? Like that smile they had shared briefly? Or when on that cold day early within the whole adventure Jack offered to share his cloak to Ralph only, and how baffled he looked when Ralph teased him about it? Did any of it ever matter?

Their first interaction with each other was on the playground, and it happened on accident. Or, rather, Ralph was eavesdropping at a very bad moment and got caught up with the consequences. Reflecting back on it, though, Ralph was sure it was his best decision in a very, very long time. 

Incidentally, Jack only had two classes with Ralph and the others boys due to "safety purposes" as the principal explained. They didn't share the same class that took the kids to recess, but it so happened that the two separate classes took place with the same schedule. Maybe it was on purpose, to let Jack interact healthily with the kids he knew on the island, playing tag and other stuff. Most of the time Jack was on the swings. Apparently he used to sing really loudly on the swings, but didn't anymore. He never really sang. Ralph wondered if he did in choir.

Anyway, this time Jack was with this other group of boys. Ralph didn't pay attention at first, he was busy trying to play this spy game with Maurice and the other older kids. But as Ralph tried to find a place to properly hide under the three connected slides that went really high up in a twelve year old's mind, he heard some kid say Jack's last name harshly, like he was mocking. Ralph didn't really blame them-- who's last name is _Merridew_ , there's nothing merry about the guy-- but still, this peaked his interest. No one really stood up to Jack. Ralph did, back on the island, but that felt different. It _was_ different, Ralph wasn't a bully, right? And besides, no one really got away with teasing Jack. Ralph felt strongly about that, actually.

So Ralph listened, and his eyes searched until he saw three older kids grinning at an annoyed Jack. 

"Oh, shut up, will ya?" Jack was saying. "I'm going to go back to the swings, you guys can peace out." As Jack tried to leave, the kid on the end put his hand on Jack's chest and pushed back. 

"Dude, don't even try. It takes guts to do what you have done, but you're weak now. Look at him, he's weak!"

Jack narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything. He tried to leave again but of course those kids blocked his path.

"Move!" Jack cried, really high-pitched. " _Please!_ What else do you want from me?"

"Payback," the kid in the middle said.

Jack blinked, obviously confused. "What are you--"

"You were the biggest bully, but now you're a sissy. You pushed us all around, and now you can't do anything about it?"

Jack, who was pretty tall, made himself look taller. He frowned. "Says who?"

Ralph had this instinct that things could get pretty bad. But if he jumped in, would he be helping anyone? He could maybe tell the teacher, or distract them... but how? Would there be enough time for Ralph to react? Would Jack actually fight these morons? What if Ralph did something, just to find out Jack actually _did_ deserve it... And maybe he did, after all that. Ralph was confused. Did anyone ever deserve to be hated, to be hit? Even if they were a beast, hypothetically? Could beasts help the fact that they are who they are? What if--

Things were heating up, Ralph realized at the last second. The boys... they were getting closer, and by Jack's expression, he really didn't want to make a move. He looked nervous, actually, backing up. It didn't seemed like he was speaking either. Ralph heard some side remark-- something about Jack's dad-- and Jack went blank before he looked furious. Jack yelled this time-- and Ralph's heart wanted to break, he looked just like his father. In fear, Ralph ran to them, shocked to see that the boys were actually serious with their talk as they started to grab at Jack. Maybe Ralph was overly paranoid, maybe he was overthinking, but in his mind fighting meant you were going to die. You were going to die like a savage, by a savage, and there was the fire closing in... and the smell of rotten pig flesh, and the broken glasses, and the screams, and blackness and the thick smoke...

Jack was punched, so he swung too--saying something along the lines of how anger made his fists hurt more-- but before the boys could react too much, Ralph was right beside them. Ralph never fought anyone before, and the boys seemed to have known this, for they looked confused and even a little cocky until Ralph punched the kind in the middle. Pain shot through his knuckles, but he punched the one on the right too, and Jack cried out something to warn Ralph about the other boy, who hit them both quickly. Not much came from the fight besides that scuffle, because the teachers were on their way. It's not like we were going to kill them, Ralph snapped inside his head. But that look Jack had on his face-- the way the playground silenced-- reminded Ralph that they were all monsters on that island. Willing to kill. The sky seemed darker than usual, and Ralph almost wished there was a fire to swallow him up. Even with civilization, men are beasts-- and time and again boys are raised to be men. Cold, heartless men. Those who fought in wars and shot blindly, remember?

The teachers even tried separating Ralph and Jack-- but Ralph gripped Jack's hand all of a sudden, and they met eyes. Ralph's hand was covered with blood; blood that came from Ralph's decision, not Jack's lust for violence. And Jack's mouth was bleeding-- not from tearing through flesh, but from being attacked like a caged animal.

So they had switched sides, so the polars have intertwined. Jack began to cry, so Ralph hugged him. No hesitation. They just hugged, and the chaotic world of children's screams faded around them. Ralph was crying too, but he still heard Jack's soft "Thank you." It seemed like a small miracle. Jack was warm, like a normal person, not cold like a ghost. And he was breathing, he was real, and he did embrace back. Jack's embrace was tight, and Ralph liked that. He didn't know why, it was a silly thing to think about. Some people's hugs were weak and quick, but not Jack's. Then again, Ralph didn't usually just hug people. But it was nice.

The teacher finally did separate them, even though they tried to keep hold of each other. But nevertheless they were sent to the office together, and the boys on the playground watched grimly. In their heads, this was another war to witness, and what if the boys never came home? Ironic, because suddenly Ralph didn't _want_ to come home. Not at all.

*

Parents were called. Ralph really didn't want Jack to get hit again, so he made sure to be close to Jack's side. They waited outside the office for their cue to come in and hear a lecture from all the adults in the room. Jack was still crying. Ralph gripped his arm. "Hey-- I'm here. You're not alone." And, just because Ralph always needed this reminder, he added real softly: "We're not on the island anymore. It doesn't have to be part of us. We have to stick together, remember? Except this time we don't need a fire, okay? We don't need hunting, or the conch, or any of that nonsense. We just need each other. We don't have to be running in darkness. There's a light, right there, and it doesn't consume everything it touches. It's a whisper, but it's there. It shows us we are not alone, that we are _not_ monsters." Ralph held Jack's hand. "You, Jack Merridew, are not a monster."

Jack cried harder. "Really? You really mean that?"

Ralph nodded as they hugged again. Jack laid his head on Ralph's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so, so sorry. About everything. It's so stupid to admit now, and I know it's useless, and it's such a childish thing to say, but I am truly, honestly sorry." Ralph nodded, and there was another pause from Jack before he continued: "I was a jerk. A bully. I hurt so many good people. I don't know how... I really wish I could explain it, I do. I just-- I had to prove myself, that I could... hunt, you know? That I could lead. That I can do something so basic. But I don't care about that anymore, I don't care if it's basic. None of that was the point, and I... I tried to-- I almost killed you." His voice broke. "I mean, I was so full of hate. I hated you, Ralph, but I think I was trying to convince myself I did, and to convince myself meant I had to hurt you, and if I didn't hurt you that meant I was a liar and that I cared about something that-- that might've not lived anyway, might've not cared if... if I died. Or something. But, Ralph, I realized... if I let Roger be satisfied with killing, he'd leave off. There would be a chance for you to live. So I gave him specific places to burn up, you know, places you could avoid... So maybe you'd escape. I don't know, I was torn if I wanted to kill you or not, but I think the whole time I felt guilty about it, so I tried to let you live, planned how you could escape. But it was insanity, it was useless-- except. Except we're alive, right? This isn't some dream?"

Ralph shook his head, head turning from all of Jack's rambled. "This is real, you're real, _I'm_ real."

Jack looked like he had calmed down, but then he cried again. "Sometimes..." He coughed. "Sometimes I wish none of it was real."

Ralph wanted to say _Maybe none of it is._ But he didn't, because suddenly he was so sure of something. "I'm glad you're real," he said simply, looking at Jack, who looked up real curiously. 

"Really?"

"Really. I promise." He took out the glasses. Yes, he had kept them. "I-- uh..." Ralph blushed. "I saw you in the lobby, that one day. With your dad. You dropped your glasses. I wanted to return them to you, but I was scared of you, and me, and of... everything. But that's okay, I'm not scared anymore. And now you can have your glasses back, you must miss them and all. I didn't know you had a problem seeing... I think. I think they suit you." He put them on Jack's face and fixed his wild hair. "There. Yeah. They suit you."

Jack smiled. It was genuine. One day, Ralph was going to tell him how nice his smile was when he meant it-- like the hugs.

"At first, I thought they looked stupid. Reminded be too much of... of Piggy. And. I don't know. I had this image of who I oughta be, and a kid with glasses wasn't it. Maybe that's why I..." He didn't finish the sentence, but Ralph understood.

"It's okay, Jack. It's over."

Jack nodded. "And... about my father. He isn't too bad. He's just strict. He had high expectations for me. Like, he didn't want me to be in choir. After he found out what I did, I couldn't be in choir anymore. I don't sing like I used to. Even if I was still in choir, I wouldn't be able to sing."

Ralph considered this. "But-- you can sing C#!"

Jack grinned. "Quality of voice is not what I'm talking about. I mean... I don't have the heart to sing."

"Oh. Well... then I'll help you."

"Help me? How?" Jack tilted his head.

"I mean, I'll help you find your voice again. Whatever that takes, I'll make sure you can sing and you're happy and that your father doesn't hit you anymore. I know what you're going to say-- _That's childish_. But actually, I'm glad to be a child. I never want to be anything else in a while but a child, and of course, a friend. A friend to you, and Maurice, and Sam and Eric, and even to Piggy and Simon. We're all going to be friends, and we can move on and grow up together in a good way. Learn from everything, and just-- be ignorant, stupid boys. I miss being that. I know you do too, and this time, you don't have to pretend. You can be honest with me. I don't want to leave you anyway."

A weight seemed to have been visibly taken off Jack's shoulders as he melted into Ralph's side. "You know... I don't hate you, Ralph. I really, really like you."

Ralph smiled. "I really like you, too."

* * *

The first official meeting of the boys were held in the classroom on a day that was too rainy to play outside. So they had an indoor recess, and all the boys-- littluns, bigguns-- sat around a desk, watching intently as Ralph and Jack called the meeting. There were even two seats reserved for Piggy and Simon.

Ralph held a dry eraser in his hand. "This will replace the notorious conch," he explained. "We will still pass it around, but it doesn't make sounds to call meetings. You can just make a random noise. Maurice, demonstrate."

Maurice made this long duck-calling sound, and all the boys laughed.

"Also, there's no leader," Jack added. "None. At least, no single leader. We can all be leader at times, I guess we can a new one everyday."

A littlun raised his hand. "What are meetings about? We're not in danger."

"Anything! Talking, joking, homework help, stories, whatever. We're all going to be friends, and it's going to be fun. And you're all allowed to be stupid boys. Because honestly, we all are."

"To stupid boys!" Maurice raised his glass-- it was full of orange juice.

"To Piggy and Simon!" Jack said. There was a sentimental mood shift within the group, and they all rasied their orange juice glasses, and a lot of the boys even had tears in their eyes. "They deserve remembrance. They will be thought of as angels to guide us. It's the least we can do."

Someone proposed a funeral. Everyone else nodded solemnly.

Ralph suddenly raised his glass. "This might not make sense, I don't know. Just-- think about it, okay? But... I want to say, generally, there might be a point to all of this that I don't want anyone to miss. I spent so long chasing a dream I thought was my own. I looked up to my dad, and the navy, and following his footsteps. But the truth is? I don't want that dream anymore. I have a new dream-- and it's you guys. I've seen what these ideas we create in our heads lead to. And it's bloody hell-- I mean, seriously, _literally_. And then there are some of us who are actually pressured into these thoughts and ideas, forced one way so they become forceful themselves. They can't see that they have the ability to change. But that's the thing-- We _can_ change. We're always going to be selfish. But we can be kind, too. We can be kids. We can try to make sense of this world  without letting it crush us." Taking a deep breath, he gestured to his glass. "So here's to all the boys whose father has become their ghost."

The boys cheered to this, deeply moved. Jack mouthed _Thank you_. And Ralph looked down on all those boys, all smiling and alive. And suddenly he was so thankful for have learning such a valuable lesson, and mostly for the chance to just live, to breathe. He knew all too well how easily that beautiful thing can be taken away. But that didn't matter now. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know this fandom is quite small but I was actually surprised there was one in the first place! That made me so happy. I read LOTF like 2 weeks ago in my own free time, and I absolutely love the book so much and I'm glad there's a community for it out there. I'm down for discussions and such, though I'm probably not going to post a lot of original content. We shall see! Thank you for reading and I hope the love for LOTF lives on! Be sure to tell me what you think!
> 
> P.S. If I do make another fanfic for LOTF it should definitely be about Jack. He's such an interesting character and I actually love him even though he's trash.  
> And if I decide to make more fanfiction for classics in general, The Catcher in the Rye will be next up. ;)


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